


The Humbling of Mr. Darcy

by PotionMastersBitch



Category: Pride and Prejudice & Related Fandoms, Pride and Prejudice (1995), Pride and Prejudice (2005), Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Age Play, Diapers, Infantilism, Naughty, Non-Consensual Spanking, Non-Sexual Age Play, Regency
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-04-20 08:30:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14256981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotionMastersBitch/pseuds/PotionMastersBitch
Summary: Mr. Darcy was a man who had grown used to being in charge, his word being obeyed like law both at home and in society. But what happens when Mr. Bennett unearths his biggest secret, a shameful thing only Charles is aware of? Will the irreverent man use it against him?





	1. Chapter 1

Arthur Bennett reclined rather lazily in his well-worn office chair and yawned loudly as he kicked up his feet unto the dilapidated trunk he kept beneath the desk for that very purpose. Having endured a very long evening of entertaining last-minute desks, the majority of which he found quite insufferable, he had found himself very much in need of the ‘quiet’ time’ that only his private room could provide. Off-limits to both wife and daughters, save for Lizzie on certain occasions, the serviceable library was the impenetrable fortress that kept him sane in a house overflowing with estrogen and hysteria. It was a smaller room, yet, but it was one in which he might reflect upon the day’s occurrences without any needless nagging or needling, an abode in which any and all complaints were staunchly forbidden and subsequently placed upon the proverbial backburner.  
The only real deviation from the simple rules he had long-ago devised came in the form of Mr. Darcy, a gentleman who, enjoying a higher status than Arthur, had found himself being begrudgingly allowed into the library to pass the time with a borrowed book of his choosing. Having not wished to participate in the impromptu carriage ride suggested by the newlywed’s Charles and Jane, the very two most responsible for the appearance of sudden guests, the aloof aristocrat had given the feeble excuse of having come down with sudden headache so that Kitty and Miss Bingley would neg him no longer into joining them in their carriage.  
As Mrs. Bennett (Lucy) had gone along to chaperone all the unmarried girls, the number of which greatly outweighed those with a marital status, Arthur had soon found himself forced by social dictates into inviting the curmudgeon into his office to await the reveler’s return. And while at first the withdrawn man had looked more than ready to turn down the polite offer, Charles had no so subtly nudged the man in his ribs until he had, at last, reluctantly agreed to keep Mr. Bennett company.  
After said arrangement had been made, it was of but little effort for Arthur to guide the sullen man into his office and see him seated into the most comfortable chair situated by the window. The beginning of a problem only arose after they had been seated in relative silence for a good quarter of an hour.  
The trouble began when Mr. Darcy began to fidget in a manner most unbecoming to his elevated station, his pallid cheeks all aflame as he struggled in vain to situate himself more comfortably without drawing any notice to his person. Sensing the younger man’s great discomfort, Arthur had kept his eyes firmly glued unto the pages of his book so as not to shame the squirming man with an errant glance. It wouldn’t do, after all, for him to offend such a powerful man with any impertinent questions or looks.  
Mercifully for the both of them, it did not take Mr. Darcy too long to situate himself into a position he found far more favorable than the last. And while the stubbornly-mute aristocrat’s new arrangement was obscenely casual, the tell man now sitting cross-legged like a child, Arthur chose to let the matter rest in favor of returning to his own book. Clearly having no desire to be the odd duck out, Mr. Darcy followed suit and placed his borrowed book atop his lap before feigning interest in the colorful illustrations of the book on herbology.  
It was only once Arthur began to detect the distinct smell of old urine that he, himself, began to grow as uneasy as Mr. Darcy, for the thought of said man having wet himself within his office mortified him to no end. For while Arthur was an admittedly aged man, he knew himself not to be so decrepit that he had lost any of the functionality of his bladder. His hearing might be on the way out, perhaps, but that was certainly it so far.  
And thus, by the power of deduction, that left only one culprit to whom such a fetid stench could belong. And while Arthur was most unwilling to believe such an absurdity where it involved Mr. Darcy, he found himself powerless to argue against such sound reasoning. So, as discreetly as he was able to, Arthur made a charade of turning a page in his book before looking out at his guest from the corner of his eye. To his great frustration, or perhaps his relief, he was spared the immediate shame such a discovery might have brought by the way in which Mr. Darcy had taken care to conceal his lap with the large book.  
Properly stymied, Arthur subsequently decided to try a different tactic.  
“Mr. Darcy,” He began, perfectly casual, “Are you quite alright?”  
If at all possible, the bachelor’s cheeks became even redder.  
“I have a headache.” Mr. Darcy reminded him, his tone suspiciously whiny as he took on a garish frown.  
“Ah, I see.” Arthur nodded, rising swiftly from his chair. “Allow me to fetch you something for that.”  
Leaving the stoic man to his vast discomfort, Arthur strolled leisurely from the room and idled off in pursuit of some anacin. In no real hurry, as to allow the embarrassed Mr. Darcy time to take care of himself, Mr. Bennett pattered softly about the downstairs level until, at last, he located the medication tucked away within a small kitchen drawer. Proud that he had not needed to evoke Hill’s help for such an endeavor, something Lucy would never believe, Arthur grinned smugly to himself and poured out two capsules into his palm before returning the bottle to its proper place. Still quite satisfied with himself, he then fetched a glass of water before making his way back upstairs.  
Pushing into his library without knocking, Arthur subsequently found Mr. Darcy now seated sideways in his chair, his shoed feet up on the upholstery and his pale hands suspiciously betwixt his legs. Staring angrily at the wall now situated within his line of view, the distraught man had not only failed to hear his approach, so too had he failed to see it. Not wishing by any means to startle the wriggling man, Arthur coughed loudly as he stepped nearer and tried not to grimace as the stench of urine became ever stronger.  
Caught unawares, Mr. Darcy jerked in surprise and nearly fell out of his chair in his frenzied scramble to right himself into a more proper position.  
“What is this?” The blushing man demanded, struggling to sound authoritative as he looked at the pills in Arthur’s palm.  
Opting to pretend that he had not seen such an unseemly display from Mr. Darcy only moments ago, he smiled politely at the man and pressed the glass of water into his hand.  
“You told me you had a headache.” Arthur reminded him, depositing the capsules of medication into the man’s free hand.  
“I cannot tolerate swallowing pills.” The stubborn man refused, promptly passing the medication back.  
Fighting the urge to roll his eyes at such a childish refusal, Arthur calmly accepted the pills and brought them over to his desk. Snatching up a penknife he had earlier set aside, when came the news of his unannounced guests, he then brought the blade of the instrument firmly down upon the small capsules and made quick work of turning them into a coarse powder capable of being swallowed. Scraping the white substance into the palm of his hand, Arthur then strode over to his reluctant houseguest and deposited the concoction into his water.  
“Try it this way.” Arthur insisted, moving back a few paces to allow the man room.  
Mr. Darcy glowered down at the glass in his hand but reluctantly began to drink, his sips as slow and sullen as if his host had given him sludge to drink rather than water. Ignoring the petulance, Arthur simply strolled back to his seat and waited patiently for the man to finish.  
When, at long last the small glass of water was depleted, Arthur held out his hand expectantly toward Mr. Darcy.  
“You wouldn’t mind being a good sport and bringing me that glass, would you?” Arthur queried, keeping his tone perfectly innocent. “It is my wife’s favorite, after all, and I would hate for something to happen to it.”  
Finding no way in which he might refuse such an innocent request, Mr. Darcy glowered and rose reluctantly to his feet. Disparaging softly the ‘plainness’ of the unadorned glass, the sulking man then proceeded to shuffle nearer to Arthur with a wide-stanced step that only furthered his suspicions. Keeping perfectly still, so as not to make his deductions known, Mr. Bennett braced himself and prepared to strike just as soon as the younger man was close enough. For the inappropriateness of his curiosity aside, Arthur was now determined to get a confirmative answer to his theorem.  
“Here you are, Mr. Bennett.”  
Rather than accept the inconsequential glass from his fellow aristocrat, and thus run the risk of said man scurrying off back to his seat, Arthur nodded beguiling once before he quickly snaked out a hand and seized the man’s wrists. Understandably alarmed, Mr. Darcy let fall the glass from other hand as he reflectively tried to pull free the arm currently being held hostage in an iron grip. Ignoring the tiny part of his brain that assured him he most definitely should not be doing this, Arthur then pulled the struggling man across his lap.  
“Mr. Bennett, no.” The weaker man grumbled, struggling to be free. “What do you think you are doing?”  
“Hush, Mr. Darcy.” Arthur commanded, maintaining his firm grip.  
“I apologize for the remark I made about the cup!” The younger man cried, now pushing against the floorboards with his feet to better his chance of escape.  
“While that remark certainly wasn’t very kind, Mr. Darcy, that’s not why you’re in this position.”  
Thus said, Arthur than slipped a hand down the wriggling man’s trousers without nary a warning and found exactly what he was expecting to find.  
“William,” Mr. Bennett expressed, “Why didn’t you tell me you needed your diaper changed?”


	2. Chapter 2

“I need No such thing!” William fibbed, his deep voice saturated with mortification as he worked his fingernails into Arthur’s leg. “Unhand me!”   
“Silly boy,” Arthur scolded, removing his hand from the soiled wrappings, “You should have told me.”   
In truth, the blame lay more with Arthur than it did the aristocrat. For as the veteran father of five whole children, the awkward shuffling of one whose diaper had grown uncomfortably cold and scratchy should have been far more recognizable to him. For despite the rarity of such an occasion within the Bennett household, Mary had proven quite difficult to toilet train and had subsequently spent the entirety of one whole summer battling the hellish nappy rash that had occurred whenever she took off to hide her shame at having wet herself at the wizened old age of four.   
“I had nothing at all to tell you.” William huffed indignantly, still struggling valiantly to escape. “Unhand me!”   
“Hush now,” Arthur crooned, patting the man’s cushioned bottom, “I’ll have this taken care of in no time.”   
Correctly deducing the meaning behind the words, the man situated across his lap moaned loudly and began to kick his feet a little.   
“No.” Said man moaned, increasing the gusto of his kicking.   
Ignoring the childish little outburst, Arthur patted the tantruming man’s bottom once more before slacking his hold. Just as he had predicted, William quickly seized the opportunity such a loosened grip provided and soon squirmed free- looking quite vindicated even as his endeavors left him sprawled out on the floor. Too relieved to care about the indignity of such a childish display, William wasted neither energy or time as he crawled rapidly toward the door. It was only once the desperate man rose and placed his hand on the doorknob that Arthur bothered to speak.   
“Be sure not to frighten Ms. Hill with your theatrics.” Arthur cautioned. “She slaps when startled.”   
Hand still poised on the doorknob, the perturbed William stopped in his tracks and stared stubbornly at the door. “Ms. Hill?” He queried, his voice very small.   
“Yes, William.” Arthur agreed. “Ms. Hill.”   
“But she was outside.” The younger man argued, sounding very unsure. “I saw her.”   
“That was nigh on two hours ago.” Arthur reminded, pointedly tilting his head. “I can hear her even now- in the kitchen.”   
True to his word, the distinct sounds of said woman clearing the dining room table from the supper dishes could be heard.   
“I will use another door, then.”   
“And what then, William?” Arthur demanded, taking care to keep his tone even. “Will you walk all way back to Netherfield with damp trousers?”   
William blushed profusely and moved one hand away from the door to conceal his backside, a strangled cry rising from his throat as he did so.   
“What if someone were to drive by and stop you for a chat?” Arthur questioned pointedly, keep his tone even. “What then?”   
“I would send them away.” William whispered, pressing his forehead against the door as he moved his other hand to join the one hiding his bottom.   
“And how would you do that, William?” Arthur wondered aloud. “By telling them you wet yourself?” When the flustered man gave no answer other than a pitiable sniff, Arthur shook his head sadly and continued to sermonize. “Because I can assure you right now, William, that such a confession would be unnecessary. I can smell you all the way over here, I’m afraid, and so too could anybody who stopped you for a word.”   
William just shook his head sadly, stubbornly unwilling to admit to himself that he reeked of aged urine and had been the harbinger of such a foul stench.   
“Come now, William, be reasonable.” Arthur implored.   
Rather than reply via words, the frustrated man stomped his feet a few times before kicking at the door with a low growl. Unamused with the destructive behavior, but willing to let it slide so long as William began to cooperate, Arthur rose to feet and strode over to the tantruming individual. Snatching one of the man’s hands in his own, he gave the digits of such a firm squeeze before tugging the aristocrat away from the door.   
“I’ll not have you behaving that way in my house.” Arthur lectured, landing a firm slap on the frustrated man’s rear. “Now find a seat and wait for me.”   
Clearly fearing another blow, or perhaps too exhausted to argue any further, William scurried away from his reach and sank into the relative safety of the chair he had earlier vacated.   
“I will soon be back.” Arthur informed. “Stay where you are.”   
William simply glared at him, his dark eyes nearly overflowing with petulance.   
“William.” Arthur warned, raising his hand.   
Suitably cowed at such a gesture, the childish man sank into his seat and nodded once.   
“Good boy.” Arthur rewarded, striding quickly from the room.  
Making his way just a few feet down the corridor, Arthur quietly pushed into the guest bedroom and made his way toward the large trunk situated at the foot of the large bed. Having had the Gardiner’s over for an extended period of time not too long ago, the company of which included Mr. Gardiner’s sixteen-year old son from another marriage, Arthur was absolutely certain the furniture would hold what he needed.   
Wasting no time at all, Arthur flipped open the lid and was pleased to see he had, indeed, been correct. Just as he had dared hope it might be, the oversized duffle-bag had been left behind by his harried sister-in-law as she had struggled to herd her smallest child into their waiting carriage. More than just a little pleased by such a fortunate discovery, Arthur grinned widely and seized the overstuffed bag from its dark confines.   
He stepped back into the library to find William still pouting, his bottom lip sticking out from his mouth in a manner more endearing than frustrating. Chuckling softly to himself at the idea of the aloof ‘Mr. Darcy’ being so childish, Arthur put on a friendly smile and placed the duffle-bag atop his desk. But it was only once he began to unzip the bag that his unhappy houseguest took up interest, his curiosity obviously outweighing his desire to sulk.   
“Here we are.” Arthur hummed, pulling out a large square of yellow fabric.   
William said nothing as he watched the long rectangle of terrycloth being spread out upon the floor, either afraid of another swat or simply too invested in the show his host was putting on.   
“Come, William.” Arthur gently ordered, beckoning for the man to draw nearer.   
When said man failed to obey such a simple request, Arthur moved across the floorboard and seized one of his hands. Tapping the long fingers lightly when the aristocrat made to pull away from him, the Bennett Patriarch was then able to pull the stunned individual over to the cushioned blanket.   
“Now be a good boy and lie down.” Arthur crooned, gesturing at the colorful fabric.   
William shook his head furiously and made to back away, his cheeks burning ever brighter as he took in the implication of such a blanket. But not one to ever be deterred in his endeavors, Arthur held firm to his hand and quickly seized the other.   
“Come now, William,” He scolded, “There is no need for all these theatrics.”   
“But-”   
“No,” Arthur refused, not unkindly, “This is getting done one way or the other. But whether or not it gets done the easy way is largely dependent on you.”   
“I-”  
“William,” Arthur reasoned, “Wouldn’t you have this done with before the ladies and Mr. Hurt return?”   
Eyes going wide at the thought of the aforementioned groups return, William nodded quickly and nearly tripped over himself in his frantic rush to lie down as earlier bed. Keeping a firm hold on the embarrassed man’s hand so he didn’t do just that, Arthur carefully helped lower the younger man’s skinny body unto the mat. Worried that his guests head might soon grow sore resting upon the hard floorboards, he fetched a small cushion from the duffle-bag and kneeled beside the still-blushing man.   
“Let me put this under your head.” Arthur suggested, already lifting the boy’s head with his free hand.   
“Thank you.” William muttered, his words muffled by the way he had quickly his face behind his hands.   
“Of course.” Arthur smiled, ruffling his curls.   
Ignoring the whine of protest that came with the tousled hair, Arthur rose from his knees and retrieved the bag he had left on the desk. Setting it near the manchild’s knees, as that was where most of the work would be done, he then sank back onto his knees and stretched to unbutton William’s trousers. Moaning in response, the lying man wriggled uncomfortably and tried to his push his fingers away.   
“Shh.” Arthur soothed, gently slapping the digits away.   
Wisely deducing that he was too far in for any further protest to be effective, William grumbled something under his breath before returning his hand to his face. Allowing the muttered curse to slide, just the once, Arthur made quick work of unbuttoning and unzipping the black garment. Not wishing to forlong the aristocrat’s discomfort for any longer than necessary, Arthur gently tapped the man’s thigh and requested he lift his hips a bit. He was almost more surprised than relieved when his charge made to obey, his legs shaky with nervous energy but obedient all the same.   
“Such a good boy.” Arthur praised, slowly tugging the fabric down his legs.   
Arthur couldn’t help but gasp as he took in the disaster now before him. Obviously diapered by someone grossly inexperienced, or perhaps malicious, the poor boy had been wrapped up in so many different and clumsily applied layers of nappy that it was hard to determine where one layer began and the other ended.   
“Don’t spank me.” William begged, sounding very small.   
“Why ever would I do such a thing?” Arthur wondered, perturbed at the very thought.   
“I leaked.” William sniffed, his voice suspiciously thick.   
“You did.” Arthur agreed, not unkindly. “But it’s no wonder that happened with you being so clumsily diapered.”   
Not only had the layers of ridiculously thin fabric been carelessly applied, so too were there many large gaps in the layers.   
“Charles tries his best.” William defended, not liking to hear his friend being besmirched.   
“Ah, so Charles is responsible this.” Arthur nodded, slowly beginning to unweave and remove the soiled strips.   
“Yes.” William insisted, taking umbrage with his accusatory tone.   
“Well,” Arthur grinned, “While Charles was a little clumsy, you won’t have to fear the same from me.”   
“No?” William wondered, still concealing his face.   
“I have five kids.” Arthur reminded. “Of course not.”   
More than a little satisfied with his assurances of quality control, William stilled his wriggling and allowed the rest of the layers to be removed without complaint, whining softly only once when Arthur accidently pricked him with one of the pins ineffectively stuck into the mess of cotton.   
“Now,” Arthur hummed, tugging free the last of the saturated layers, “Let us see what I am working with here.”


	3. Chapter 3

To his great chagrin, as well as his compassionate pity, what Arthur turned out to be working on was one exceedingly rashy boy, the urine-stained wrappings having been left neglected so long that they had eaten away at the sensitive skin they had meant to protect.   
“How long did Charles leave you in these? Arthur demanded, grimacing openly at the negligent damage to the boy’s entire nether region.   
“He changes me every morning and evening.” William protested, laboring under the ridiculous assumption that a changing twice a day was more than adequate.   
“Only twice in a day?!” Arthur interrogated, quite disappointed in his son-in-law.   
Rather than betray his closest friend with a confession to the accusations, William opted to remain loyally mute. Needing no such confession in the first place, Arthur forgave the noncompliance and began to prod the recalcitrant man’s nappy area with an investigative finger. Giving a loud squeak at such a clinical treatment, William squirmed about a few times but otherwise allowed the exploration to continue.   
“My poor boy.” Arthur sympathized, with no trace of irony. “How sore you must be.”   
Encouraged by little nod he received in response, Arthur reached once more into the bag and fumbled about blindly until he felt his fingers brush against smooth glass. Well pleased with his quick discovery, having never before enjoyed such luck, he then removed the glass container and held it up to his eyes to admire the ingenuity of the invention he, himself, had created for the benefit of his infant daughters. Filled with a careful mixture of both sterilized water and aloe vera, as well as a tiny touch of iodine to keep things sterile, the milk-white glass also housed a series of pre-portioned linen squares.   
“Brace yourself, William.” Arthur warned kindly. “This will be cold.”   
While the prostrate boy nodded his acknowledgements to the cautioning, he still yelped loudly and flinched as the first cool wipe made contact with his burning flesh. Summoning all his willpower in order to forget the pain he was now causing his squirming ward, Arthur bit down on his tongue and worked to clean his frontal area as thoroughly as he could. When, at long last, that endeavor was complete, Arthur bid his houseguest to turn unto his belly so he could better tend to his bottom.   
“Such a good boy.” Arthur praised warmly, when at long last the hesitant man made to obey.   
Intending to be just as careful and diligent as he had been when cleaning the front, Arthur set quickly to work and hummed softly as he gently removed the dried urine from the boy’s flaming backside and thighs. And though the smell was almost unimaginable in its intensity, he never onced gagged or choked in a manner that might further mortify his neglected charge. Quite the remarkable feat, he thought to himself, when one considered the fact that said man had been carelessly cleaned and the skin betwixt his bottom left caked with small smudges of excrement.   
Once Arthur had finally managed to get the sniffling man clean enough for his high and unmovable standards, he tenderly patted the pristine cheeks in a gesture of comfort and removed yet another jar from the bag at his side.   
A concoction of his wife’s making, the healing balm settled within contained a number of ingredients both logical and insensible. A fact which only served to greatly irritate him, for though the goo was created quite haphazardly, oftentimes not even with the same methods of ingredients, it never served to fail in facilitating the closing of scrapes or the soothing of irritated flesh.   
“This shall soothe the burning.” Arthur promised, already unscrewing the lid.   
Dipping three fingers into the lavender-scented goop the color of clovers, Arthur quickly made to prove true his earlier assertions by slathering a long streak of the cold balm across William’s blistered posterior. Encouraged by the way the man had seemed to relax at the initial application, Arthur soon found himself responsible for the phenomenon of the aristocrat’s rosy buttocks being turned white again.   
Not daring to hope that the silent Mr. Darcy would remain so docile during the next phase of his changing, Arthur very discreetly pulled from the bag a disposable diaper. Impossibly thick, due to the advanced age of its wearer, as well as the many layers of padding added for aesthetics sake, the white garment would be more than just a little serviceable for William.   
“I am going to be placing a bit of plastic over your rear to contain the mess.” Arthur informed, seeking to avoid any needless panic.   
Thus having explained himself as much as he wished, Arthur coughed loudly and used the diversion to cover up the sound of his opening the nappy. When said action proved bewilderingly successful, he then seized upon the luck he was currently experiencing and placed the bottommost portion of the contraption against the coated backside currently gracing his vision.   
“Be a good boy and turn around now.” Arthur implored.   
Strangely obedient, the somber Darcy heir flipped unto his back once more before. But rather than use his hands to conceal his face, as he had been wont to do, the blushing man instead stuck a few fingers from his left hand into his mouth. As he found the manner in which he did so quite endearing, the action serving to remind him of both Lizzie and Lydia, Arthur forced himself to vanquish all thoughts of germs from his mind so that he might not feel compelled to forbid such a soothing action.   
“We are halfway through.” Arthur encouraged.   
When William did nothing but stare pointedly at the ceiling, neither complaining nor wriggling, Arthur took it as permission to continue onward with his self-appointed task. Humming softly a nameless tune, one that Mary and Catherine had always favored in their youth, he then began to coat the withdrawn man’s frontside with the goop- using much the same method he had used before.   
“We’re almost done here.” Arthur encouraged, grabbing up a large container of talcum.   
Thus said, he then sprinkled a liberal amount of the chalky powder unto his charge’s person, successfully bidding the young man to lift and bend his knees when it came time to coat his buttocks.   
“You’re being such a good boy.” Arthur appraised again, finally earning a small smile from his efforts.   
Casting a smile of his of his own, Arthur seized upon the momentum of his charges sudden good humor and moved quickly unto the final step of the diapering. As gently as he was able too, so as not to cause any alarm, he slowly separated the hairy legs lying before him and pulled the top of the diaper through the divide he had created. When that elicited neither complaint nor wriggle, Arthur than secured the garment tightly in place via the tabs provided. Finding himself quite satisfied with his handiwork, and perhaps a bit smug, he smiled wider and patted one of the white knees lying before him.   
“Up we go.” Arthur announced, grabbing both William’s hands to pull him into a sitting position.   
To Arthur’s great surprise, as well as concern, the raven-haired man burst promptly into devastated tears after he was reseated- his face flushing once more as he looked down at the thick padding settled between his legs.


	4. Chapter 4

“My Goodness,” Arthur exclaimed softly, “Whatever is the matter, William?”   
Rather than reply verbally, as a man in full control of his faculties might, the anguished man opted instead to make known the extent of is despair by throwing himself back down the terrycloth matt he had just risen from. Clumsy in his theatrics, the poor child only wailed all the louder when his head missed the pillow and slapped into the hard floorboards beneath. Concerned at the loudness of the impact, as well as wishing to provide comfort for his disquieted houseguest, Arthur hummed consoling before kneeling beside him.   
“You have put me in a disposable!” Accused William, sounding highly betrayed.   
“But of course I did.” Arthur agreed softly, swiping at the errant tears on his reddened cheeks with gentle fingers. “They are much more sanitary.”   
Not at all amused with such an intimate gesture, the younger aristocrat swatted the soothing fingers away and rolled unto his side to face away from Arthur. Not one to be easily deterred, if at all, the sole Mr. Bennet made his way slowly around the mat until he was seated within the titled gentleman’s view once more.   
“Charles will know you changed me now!” William fussed, once more hiding his face with his hands as his anger faded into despair.   
“I should hope so.” Arthur replied calmly. “Perhaps it will serve as a lesson to him that little boys need changing immediately, and not just when it is convenient.”   
William blushed hotly at the reminder of his incontinence, but did not pull away from Arthur when he began to rub his shoulder. Rather, he seemed to embrace the contact, leaning into even as he swiped angrily at his eyes in a futile effort to regain some sense of propriety.   
“Charles will be wroth with me now.” William sniffled, swiping at his running nose with a section of the mat. “He is going to spank me!”   
Were they in any other situation, one in which a diaper changing had not been involved, Arthur might have laughed aloud at the image of the jovial Charles taking his stoic friend over his knees and paddling his behind. But, as it was, William was already quite distressed and in no condition to suffer such a shaming.   
“Charles would do no such thing.” Arthur vouchsafed for his son-in-law, unwilling to believe said man capable of any such cruelty. “Why would you ever think such a thing of him.”   
“He will.” William sobbed, his bottom lip trembling fearfully. “He becomes frustrated when I leak unto my trousers.”   
Arthur had no choice but to believe the sobbing man then, the look in his dark eyes so genuinely fearful and concerned it could scarcely be falsified. But while he was far from condoning a punishment as barbaric as a spanking, save for the most extreme of cases, Arthur could not fail to see how frustrating the situation of playing a nursemaid to his closest friend could be for Charles. For not only did it flip their power dynamic upon its head, so too would it likely prove frustrating and humiliating for the redhead as he was clearly in over his head with such a task.   
“William,” Crooned Arthur, lightly tousling said man’s hair, “If Charles even thinks of spanking you for something that was completely his fault, I’ll bend him over my knee and take a paddle to him.”   
“No!” William whined, eyes flashing with concern.   
“I most certainly will.” Arthur avowed. “For you are far too little to be receiving such punishment.”   
To be perfectly honest, the only Bennet child to have ever received such censor was his beloved Lizzie, the little scamp having run off at the age of nine for three whole days after Lucy had rightfully chastised her for having such a sassy mouth. And while Arthur had been more relived than wroth when Sir Lucas had finally located the errant youth hiding in his cellar, behind a few barrels of wine, so too was he unable to let such willfulness slide. Dragging the child home firmly by the ear, he had dragged her up into his office and walloped her backside until she promised to beg forgiveness from her mama, her wails so loud and pitiable that Arthur’s own went unnoticed.   
“I am not little.” William protested, sticking two fingers into his mouth.   
“You are not so big, either.” Arthur countered calmly, gently pulling the sniffling man back into a sitting position.   
“I am.” He scowled, voice still quavering.   
“You are no such thing.” Arthur corrected, pulling the unresisting man into a warm hug. “But let us sit quietly together until you are.”   
William looked ready to argue further, apparently enjoying the concept of bickering just for bickering sake, when Arthur hushed him with the reminder that the ladies and Mr. Hurst would soon be returning. Properly cowed at the mild threat, if not just a little concerned, the younger man then leaned into the embrace and rested his head on Arthur’s shoulder. Encouraged by the affection, he rested his own head upon the aristocrat’s shoulder and set to work rubbing his arm.   
“You were such a good boy this evening.” Arthur praised. “And so very brave to let me change you.”   
“I was good?” William wondered, eyes going wide at the very thought.   
“So very good.” Arthur agreed. “And I am very proud of you.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone know how to better format my story so it doesn't look such a mess?

Emboldened by the poorly-chaperoned fun he had only just shared with his peers that evening, Charles grinned widely and seductively whispered something decidedly naughty into his new wife’s ear as he exited the carriage directly behind her. Blushing quite alluring at his murmured suggestion that they try page thirty-seven of the “kamasutra,” just as soon as the mumbled words registered within her frazzled brain, Jane squeaked indignantly and elbowed him in the gut, failing miserably, all the while, to conceal her own small smile. 

“You cannot tell me, dearest wife, that you do not wish to try such a thing.” Charles goaded, seizing her smaller hand in his own and giving the fingers a small squeeze. 

“What is it that you wish to try?” Mary asked innocently, her incessant curiosity being the only thing to have drawn her away from yet another shared conversation with William’s cousin, the Colonel. 

“Just some dish I heard of in my travels to India a few years ago.” Charles hastily supplied, the lie feeble but thankfully adequate enough for the besotted Mary.

It was with a dopey grin that the middle Bennet sister turned back to her conversation with the Colonel, her words light and airy as she shared her opinions on whichever book it was they were now discussing. In turn, Roger nodded along, far too infatuated to sound off any real opinion of his own aside from a few words of hasty agreement. 

“Once the baby is abed, we may try.” Jane allowed, breathing the promise. “And that is all I will promise at the moment.” 

Charles frowned petulantly despite the promise, as William had steadily been proving himself to be quite fussy during bedtime- oftentimes taking nigh on an hour to even relax enough for the first stages of sleep to seize hold of him. And last night it had taken a full two hours for such an event to occur, leaving the newlyweds both frustrated and too exhausted for naught else but sleep. 

“Baby?” Caroline frowned, pulling him from his thoughts as he edged nearer. “What baby?” 

Prepared to scold his sister for eavesdropping, yet again, Charles raised a red brow at the young woman and opened his mouth. But before he could even move his tongue, much less utter a word, his beloved Jane was speaking. 

“You must have misheard me, Caroline, for the word I said was Daisy.” The blonde woman supplied, turning all the redder. “You see, I was telling Charles that I would rather wait until our maid, Daisy, was abed before we tried the dish. She has a sensitive nose, poor thing, and I would hate for the smell to make her ill.” 

Long having, correctly, suspected a pregnancy, Caroline just grinned knowingly and fell back in the group to try and snare the colonel away from Mary for the third time that evening, his foul sister not wishing to see anyone happily married when she, herself, was yet unmarried. ‘

Thankfully, for once, Charles need not intervene and spare the humblest of his sister-in-law’s the redhead’s cruelty. For Mrs. Bennett, not wishing to see her daughter’s chances for a happy marriage thwarted, wisely piped up and called Caroline back to her on the pretext she had dropped one of her gloves in the mud.   
“Perhaps the baby will sleep better now that he has a headache.” Charles opioned.   
“We can only hope.” agreed Jane.


	6. Chapter 6

"I was just saying," Quipped Mary to the Colonel, "That military service is a God-ordained labor." 

"Have you the scriptures at hand to confirm such a thought, or do you mean only to flatter me?" The Colonel flirted. 

Modestly unaware of his intentions, the Middle Bennett daughter plucked from a side table her Holy Bible and flipped it open to a passage near the cover. 

"It is written here, in Levit-" 

Long having grown weary of her elder sister's preaching, as well as tinged with jealousy at her good fortune, Kitty Bennett sighed loudly and yanked the revered book from the prattling woman's hand. Too shocked at the poor treatment of her property to protest, Mary just sat mutely as her sister set the tomb safely out of her reach. 

"For Heaven's Sake, Mary, nobody wishes to hear your preaching!" 

"Yes." Caroline agreed. "We shall have our fix of homilies and sermons on the morrow. Let us have this evening for pleasure." 

Unable to stomach the crestfallen expression on his new sister-in-law's face, Charles cleared his throat loudly and spoke to her defense. 

"Is not every day the Lord's Day, dear sister?" 

Unable to argue that it was not so, Caroline blushed mildly and nodded just once before looking to Luisa for assistance. Sensing her younger sisters dilemma, the only woman quickly roped Kitty into a conversation involving the latest gossip pertaining to the Collinses. More than just a little happy to oblige the crafty women in their subterfuge, the fourth-youngest Bennett sister let loose a long divulge of private information, the most salacious of such being that the physicians believed the Charlotte far too large to be carrying only one baby. Quite amused at such a personal tidbit, Lousia found herself unable to refrain from asking the chatty girl if she agreed with such a blunt assessment. 

"But of course I do!" Kitty assured, showing no sense of loyalty to her family friend. "For Mrs. Lucas had grown as large as a mule when last I saw her. And, were you to see her, I am sure you would agree. Why, the poor thing could scarcely fit through our doo-" 

"Catherine!" Lizzie scolded, highly offended on behalf of her friend. "You mustn't gossip so!" 

"Yes!" Mrs. Bennett agreed, for once taking care to check her daughter. "For such a vice is sure to come back and haunt you in the end." 

"My mouth cannot help but be loose, Mama." Kitty protested. "Not when we have sat here so long waiting for Mr. Darcy." 

While Mrs. Bennet might have grown used to being sassed by her two youngest daughters, she certainly didn't appear to be familiar with the sensation of such backtalk occurring in front of such distinguished guests. First coloring brightly at the insolence, and then darkening in color in Lousia and Caroline took no care to conceal their mirth at the scene, Mrs. Bennett stood and waggled a warning finger at her youngest unmarried daughter. 

"Young lady, I have already told you that Mr. Darcy will join us just as soon as he is able to." 

Having not yet grown used to the newfound sternness of her parents, the mild scolding seemed to effectively cow Kitty for the moment. Nodding her head respectfully to show that, yes, she did understand her Mama perfectly well, the comely brunette turned to her eldest unmarried sister and informed said woman that she wished her to deliver well-wishes to her expectant friend. Happily agreeing to do so, Lizzie gave her promise to find room in her next letter to Charlotte for such kind words. Pleased to no longer find herself the object of anyone's ire, the energetic young girl than suggested that the party play at cards until the last of Mr. Bingly's party joined them. 

"I would rather we not begin a game that we might not have time to finish." Louisa sniffed, elbowing her husband awake. 

"Yes." Her younger sister mirrored. "I cannot imagine Mr. Darcy will be much longer." 

"Mr. Darcy will join us just as soon as he can." Mrs. Bennett repeated once more, a slight blush on her cheek. 

While Mrs. Bennett had been the one to go upstairs and hunt down said man, upon request, she had been long in returning and had come back baring only the message that, 'Mr. Darcy was indisposed at the moment, and would be down presently.' And while such news had not troubled Charles initially, it certainly did so now as he took in the strained expression on his mother-in-law's face. Suddenly fearing the worst, that being the discovery of William's secret, he quickly rose to his feet and prepared to charge off up the stairs, hoping to prevent the scandalous news from spreading via bribery or threat. But Jane, ever the proper one, stilled his pursuit by grabbing hold of his sleeve. Suddenly remembering himself, Charles gave his own blush and bowed to the astonished crowd. 

"Mrs. Bennett," He implored, turning to the senior Bennett, "Please allow me to attend to my friend." 

"Certainly." The older woman gracefully allowed. "Jane can show you the way." 

Nodding once more to the crowd, Charles allowed his wife to take the lead. 

"God help us, Jane, if your father has discovered William's secret he is ruined." 

"Be at peace, Charles." His wife chided, her words barely more than a whisper. "My father is an honorable man. He will not seek to ruin William." 

While his beloved sounded more than just a little sure, Charles could not help but doubt in the charity of his Father-in-Law, for he knew the man to enjoy teasing those who amused or irked him. The latter of which William had certainly done, when at Netherfield he had insulted said man's favorite daughter by declaring her 'not nearly handsome enough.' 

"We will be ruined as well." Charles worried, pulling at his hair. 

"My father will not betray his own family." Jane reasserted, more forcefully this time. 

Wishing to avoid what would be their first row, Charles held his tongue and trailed after his wife into the library of Longbourn. Already busy preparing a harried speech, in which he would defend both himself and Jane, as well as William, Charles nearly ran into Jane when she stopped abruptly in the midst of the room. 

"They are not here." She pipped, looking rather puzzled. 

"What do you mean, 'they are not here?'" Charles interrogated. "Where else could they be?" 

"We must try the guest room. Perhaps they have gone there." Jane decided, taking his hand to guide him from the room. 

Situated directly beside the book room of Longbourn, their journey was not a long one. 

"Papa," Jane called softly, rapping at the closed door, "Are you within?" 

Without the warning of a word, the door swung open softly, revealing a rather somber-looking Mr. Bennet.

"For Heaven's sake, Jane, keep your voice down." He implored, holding a wrinkled finger to his lip. 

Ever the obedient daughter, Jane stilled her tongue and followed after her father as he trodden softly into the room. 

Charles felt his knees go weak the sight before him, his earlier assumptions of Mr. Bennett making a game of William's dilemma seeming to have come to fruition. For there, lying atop the thick quilt half-asleep asleep, was William, garbed in a borrowed sleepshirt with his bottom swaddled in a disposable. 

"Mr. Bennett-" Charles began, desperate to make his excuses known. 

"Be at peace, Charles." The older man insisted. "For I shall not be sharing the secret you worked so long to conceal." 

 

 

 

 

'


	7. Chapter 7

Smiling fondly at the befuddled expression on both his daughter's and son-in-law's face, Arthur strolled over to William and took the liberty of slowly running his fingers through the dark curls. Grinning softly at such unaffected affection, William repositioned his head so that his most-recent benefactor might have better access to the tufts by his ear. Brown eyes drooping ever lower as the fingers worked at the curls, the young man hummed softly and snuggled ever further into the pillows that had been provided him. 

"I fear William is much too ill to travel back to Netherfield this evening." Arthur announced, tickling said man's chin. "He must stay the night here." 

"But, Papa, there is church on the morrow!" Jane protested, thoroughly scandalized. "And he hasn't any clothing proper for the service!" 

Concerned at the sudden excitment that had entered the room, William stilled his nuzzling and looked with concern upon the newlyweds, mistakenly believing himself the culprit for such their discomfort. Pitying the poor boy, as well as wishing to keep him sleepy to better faciliate putting him to bed, Arthur gently shushed him and set to rubbing his shoulder. 

"You two may come and share breakfast with us in the morning." Arthur decided. "And when you do, you may bring William his church clothes." 

Seeming excited at the propsect of being allowed to stay with Arthur, William nodded vigorously and cast pleading eyes upon Charles. 

"Papa, truly, there is no need for you to take on the role of caregiver." Jane meekly protested, looking highly uncomfortable at the thought of leaving her charge in the care of someone other than herself. 

Yes." Charles ardently agreed. "Jane and I are more than happy to provide care for him." 

While Arthur did not doubt that his son-in-law really was eager to care for his friend, the facts still remained that the 'care' he provided was not at all adequate. 

"I have cared for give daughters in my lifetime." Arthur reminded the duo. "I do not believe caring for a young boy would be any harder." 

In truth, such a thing might even prove easier, as William was so very well-mannered and pliant whereas compared to his youngest two daughters. 

"Please, Mr. Bennet, do not trouble yourself with such a task." Charles implored. "For not only are we pleased to do so, but there is more privacy at Netherfield as well." 

"My daughters will not go into a private bedroom they are not invited into." Arthur assured.

Flustered at having every last one of his arguments so easily thwarted, Charles threw out his hands in exasperation. 

"Are you so determined to have him?" 

"Yes," Arthur nodded, "I should say that I am." 

"Very well." Charles decided, sounding mildly defeated. "William may stay the evening with you."


	8. Chapter 8

"Now, where were we?" Arthur asked, when at last his daughter and son-in-law had taken their reluctant leave. 

Thoroughly exhausted, as well as bleary-eyed, William just stared at him blankly and suckled lazily on his fingers. 

"Ah." Arthur smiled. "Now I remember." 

Leaving the young boy to the enjoyment of his fingers, Arthur kneeled slowly in front of the bed and pulled out from beneath the furniture the duffle-bag he had stored beneath. Quickly unzipping the canvas tote, he dipped a few fingers into the darkness and ruffled about until he felt his digits brush against something both hard and plastic. Satisfied with his quick discovery, he removed the object with a flourish, hoping to catch the attentions of his sleepy ward. As expected, William was quick to oblige, his dark eyes going wide at the sudden appearance of a pacifier in front of his face. Without even needing to be told to remove the thumb and forefinger from his mouth, William held out his slobbery hand expectantly, only to be confounded with Arthur shook his head and smiled. 

"Open." Arthur directed, smirking as a small smile returned to the young boy's fallen face. 

Praising him softly when he was quick to obey, Arthur planted the object in the expectant mouth and ruffled the boy's untidy hand as he began to suckle greedily. 

"My poor boy," Arthur sympathized, kneeling in front of the bed, "You've had such a long day, did you not?" 

Too little to understand the meaning of the words, but correctly deducing that they were sympathetic in nature, William nodded along and rubbed at his rapidly drooping eyelids. 

"Charles should have told me you were little." Arthur hummed, rubbing the boy's back. "I would have put you to bed hours ago had I known." 

William blinked at the use of the word 'bed,' and frowned. 

"I go night-night when Charles and Jane go night-night." He explained, the words horrifically garbled behind the pacifier. 

"Yes," Arthur patronized, "But you far too young to be staying up with the adults." 

Having fully expected William to protest once more that he was an adult, Arthur was mildly shocked to find said manchild nodding along with the wisdom of the words. 

"I naughty when tired." The toddler mumbled, losing his soother in the process. 

Before the boy could throw a fit at the loss of his pacifier, Arthur quickly freed the yellow contraption from one of the folds of the quilt and popped it quickly into his own mouth to clean it. When he was assured the rubber portion was as free from dirt as it could get, he gently replaced into William's expectant mouth and ruffled his hair once more. 

"And how to Charles and Jane punish you when you are naughty?" Arthur queried, trying his best to keep his tone conversational. 

"Naughty baby gets spanked." Frowned William, nearly unintelligible with the nipple in his mouth. 

"Charles doesn't spank you all that much, does he?" Arthur fussed, steeling himself for the answer. 

William nodded miserably, swiping impatiently at his cheek as a tear leaked from his brown eye. 

"You're much too little for constant spankings." Arthur frowned, using his sleeve to dab at the boy's cheek. 

William nodded vigorously in agreement. 

"Charles not like to do it." He protested sadly. "But Mrs. Reynolds says naughty boys needs spanks."

"Oh, does she?" Arthur asked, thoroughly confused as to how a housekeeper of all people managed to enforce such an archaic rule. 

"Yes." William sniffled. "But Charles no like it. He cries why I need to be spanked." 

Resolving to have a talk with William about the firing of such a tyrannical ruler once he was 'big' again, Arthur frowned sympathetically and kissed the boy's damp cheek. 

"Well," He grinned, "You need not fear being spanked while you are in my care." 

William's eyes went wide once more. "No spanks?" 

"Not unless you are exceedingly naughty." Arthur assured, not wishing to lie to his charge. 

"I never very naughty." William promised. "Only a little bit." 

"Ah," Arthur nodded, "I am very glad to hear it." 

Pleased to find himself being so easily believed, William smiled warmly and stretched out atop the blankets, snuggling his face into the soft pillows as he did so. 

"Let me get you tucked into bed." Arthur crooned. 

"I sleepy." William agreed, wriggling about a bit so that Arthur could pull the quilt over his body. 

"Should you like a story?" Arthur queried, already pulling free from the canvas bag a book of fairy-tales. 

Receiving a vigorous nod in reply, Arthur moved himself so that he now sat on the edge of the bed, this new vantage point allowing the child in his care to see the illustrations on the pages. 

"Ah," Arthur smiled, recognizing the title, "I do believe this was Kitty's favorite." 

William nodded his agreements, far too exhausted to pose any questions. As such, it came as no great surprise to Arthur when, only six pages in, the telltale sounds of snoring began to drown on his soft reading of Goldilocks. Setting aside the tomb on the night-table, after carefully marking his place with a scrap of paper, Arthur gently rose from the bed and pulled the quilt further up over William's shoulder- wishing to be absolutely certain of his ward's comfort before quitting the room and sauntering into his own. 

To his great surprise, he found Lucy still awake, her reading glasses quite askew as she tried to read her novel in the light of a solitary candle. 

"I should think you would have been collapsed by now." Arthur observed, shucking off his clothing. 

"You would think." Lucy agreed, setting aside her book in favor of gazing upon her husband as he worked to don his nightgown. "But, aside from Kitty and Lizzy, the young ones really were quite well-behaved." 

Arthur frowned as he climbed into the bed beside his wife, surprised at the news that his daughters weren't at all well-behaved. 

"I had thought Kitty cured of all her silliness after Lydia had left." 

"Perhaps not all of it." Lucy shrugged. "But let us rejoice that the majority of such was removed." 

"I do suppose we must thank the Lord for small blessings." Arthur agreed dryly, meticulously repositioning his pillow. "But what is it that my Lizzy has done?" 

"Oh, the same thing as always." Lucy frowned. 

"A sassy mouth?" Arthur deduced, setting aside his glasses for the night. 

"A sassy mouth." Lucy agreed, turning to her side to face her husband. 

"It seems that Mary must sermonize, and Lizzy must sass." Arthur sighed. "Let us be thankful that neither of our daughters has decided to take up uglier vices." 

"Have you forgotten your wroth with Lydia, now?" Lucy queried, immediately leaping to her much-desired conclusion. "For if you have, we must invite her to dine with us one evening."

"Lucy-" 

"It has been nearly a year, has it not?" Lucy prattled. "You cannot tell me that you do not miss her!" 

"It is not that I do not miss her." Arthur explained, rubbing his temples. "I assure you, I do. She is my youngest daughter, after all." 

"Then why will you not allow her to visit?" Lucy fretted, looking near to tears. "We cannot hold her mistakes against her forever." 

"I do not wish to keep her at bay forever." Arthur assured. "But as of now I cannot reasonably be expected to host her whilst she persists in dragging that...that abomination along with her everywhere she goes." 

There was, after all, only so much a father could be expected to bare. 

"Should she promise to leave Wickham at home, would you allow her a visit?" Lucy pestered, grabbing unto his arm in a beseeching manner. 

Heaven help him, he should never have looked into her eyes when made to reply. For it was the very same look she was sporting, that had resulted in their marriage and the subsequent births of Kitty and Lydia when he had wished to stop procreating after Mary. 

"I suppose it would be most unreasonable of me to refuse such a reasonable request." He sighed. 

"OH!" Lucy squealed, delighted at the thought of being reunited with her youngest. "You have made me the happiest wife in all of Christendom." 

Arthur simply smiled indulgently, and pulled the quilt up to his chest, fully prepared to get a full night's rest when Lucy suddenly took it upon herself to whisper in his ear. 

"And I do intend to show you just how grateful I am, Mr. Bennet."


	9. Chapter 9

By the time Lucy had finished conveying to him just how pleased she was with his earlier agreement, Arthur was thoroughly exhausted and ready for sleep. For while he was not significantly older than Lucy, at least not so much that he cared to admit, the fact still remained that he was no longer a man in his twenties with an abundance of stamina and energy. 

"Good Lord, Arthur." Lucy panted. "I think I shall go distracted all the morrow after tonight." 

"You cannot mean to go distracted during the service." Arthur chided with mock severity. "Whatever would Mr. Collins think of you?" 

Lucy actually giggled, the sound eerily reminiscent of the noises that used to come from forth from Kitty's and Lydia's bedroom late at night. 

"I should think he would be most severe upon me." Lucy admitted, unable to stifle her amusement. "Why, he might even deign to scold me." 

Arthur was just about to remark that said man should meet a most unfortunate and grisly end should he even condescend to frown at his wife, when a very timid knock sounded at his door. Suspecting he already knew the identity of the culprit, he sighed loudly and tried his best to conceal his annoyance. 

"I have already told you, Kitty," He scolded, "That I shall not insist Mary stops flirting with the Colonel." 

While he wasn't entirely certain what Mary was doing 'could' be considered flirting, his second-youngest seemed adamant about the fact and was envious to no small degree that her 'plainer' sister was rapidly proving capable of capturing the attention of a gentleman she, herself, had set her eyes upon. 

"Your sister finding a source happiness does not harm you in any way." Lucy contributed, having long since grown weary of such a tired argument. 

To both their embarrassment, it was Mary's timid voice that called out to them from behind the closed door. 

"No Mama, No Papa." She squeaked. "It is me, Mary." 

"What is it that you need, dear?" Lucy asked, already pulling on her nightgown. 

Fully expecting a long diatribe against either Kitty or Lizzy, the former for giggling all night and the latter for her attempts to sneak out and sleep in the garden, Arthur was much slower to right his own clothing. 

"You must forgive me if I am mistaken," His middle-daughter began, sounding fretful at the chance of being found wrong, "But I do believe I hear sniffling from the guest room." 

Now wide awake, Arthur leaped from the bed and threw the door open, nearly knocking the glasses from Mary's face as she had inexplicably chosen to stand unreasonably near to the door. 

"Mr. Darcy must have taken ill." Arthur supplied, carefully stepping around his daughter. "I shall see to him." 

"Shall I send for a doctor?" Mary queried, ever prepared to prove herself helpful. 

"I should think Mr. Darcy's ailment nothing more than a headache at most." Arthur assured, sparing a second to kiss her on the temple. "If not, it is I who shall send for a doctor." 

Ever as intuitive as Lizzie, yet nowhere near as bold and uncensored, Mary glanced queerly up into his face before shrugging her shoulders and shuffling back to her own bed- no doubt more than just a little eager to finish the novel Mr. Bennet had just purchased her for her birthday. 

Waiting until he heard the door of her bedroom click closed, Arthur hurried down the corridor just as William's cries began to grow louder and shriller. Wishing not for the entire household to arise and begin an investigation as to the source of such a foreign noise, he all but threw himself into the nursery with his desperation to see his charge calmed and asleep once more. 

"What is this, now?" Arthur crooned, hurrying to the boy's bedside and wrapping his arms about him. 

William, momentarily startled into silence by the sudden appearance of another person in his room, simply hiccuped loudly before beginning to wail again. 

"Charles?" He sniffled, whining betwixt sobs as he looked longingly at the door. 

Steeling himself for a fit, Arthur grimaced and sat down beside the distraught man. 

"Charles is with Jane at Netherfield." He reminded the baby, taking care to keep his words as simple as possible. "They will come for you in the morning- after breakfast." 

A far from pleasing answer to one so very young, William wailed all the louder and clung to Arthur for comfort. More than just a little willing to provide such a need, Arthur wrapped his about the sobbing boy and squeezed tightly, wishing that such an action alone could evacuate all the sadness from his body. 

"I want Charles." Darcy sniffled, wipping his nose on the sleeve of Arthur's nightgown. 

"He will come in the morning." Arthur assured, stroking the boy's tousled hair. "And when he does, he will be so very glad to hear you were a good boy for me." 

William blinked at the mention of him being a 'good boy,' evidently holding great stock in such a high praise. 

"That's right." Arthur crooned, kissing his sweaty brow. "You have been such a good boy this evening." 

Warming to the praise, and gradually calming himself, William leaned heavily into Arthur and popped his fingers back into his mouth- content just to listen to the sound of Mr. Bennet's heartbeat in his ear. Relieved to find that the wails were no longer so loud, and much more accurately defined as sniffled, Arthur hummed softly and ran his hand along the young boy's back, prompting William to smile sleepily and press even further into his caregiver. 

"Now, why are you awake, hmm?" Arthur questioned, resting his head atop the boy's. "Did you have a nightmare?" 

Shaking his head in the negative, William gummed at his fingers and made no efforts to provide a verbal answer. It was only when the aristocrat's smacked his lips dryly that Arthur deduced the problem.

"Are you thirsty?" He fussed, tickling the man beneath his chin. 

Giggling softly, William moved his face away from the danger zone before nodding shyly once. 

"I do believe I have just the thing for you." Arthur assured, using his foot to bring the canvas bag out from under the bed. 

Curious, but also far too little to put much effort into earning himself an answer, William frowned and swiped at his red eyes as he watched Arthur lean down and rummage through the large bag. It wasn't until said man brought forth his hand from the confines of the canvas that his excitement peaked- for there, in the hand not currently wrapped about him, was a bottle filled with water.


End file.
